


dandelions

by alynshir



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Blackwall - Freeform, Blackwall has a crush, F/M, Flower metaphors, Guilty Conscience, Longing, Pre-Relationship, Second Person, Trevelyan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynshir/pseuds/alynshir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You find your stomach full with the most unexpected things - butterflies, honey winged butterflies that shine in the light just like her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dandelions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eliizabethx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliizabethx/gifts).



> I do not own Dragon Age.
> 
> My girlfriend wanted Sindha/Blackwall, so here it is!

Her hair is shorn shorter than the Seekers, and to be quite frank you've never really understood why. When you see her talking to Lady Vivienne, they with their bright smiles and engaged conversation that you're forbidden to be part of, she strikes you as the sort of woman who would let her hair grow to her knees and let children weave flowers into it. Be it as it may, it is cropped close to her head and she seems to give it no thought.

It is the first curiosity you have about her, and Andraste's tits, it is certainly not the last.

You find yourself wondering more about her as you fight beside her day to day, this tall, strong woman with the eyes of a lion and the heart of a kitten. You wonder why you always find her walking instead of riding the magnificent beasts she's been offered and given, you question why she always lingers in the tavern even after Bull has turned in for the night, you ponder why she insists on trekking through the forests more often than not seeking out simple quarries that doesn't benefit the Inquisition in the slightest and coming back bearing pelts and prey and the largest smile in the world.

You also wonder about other things, too, as you come to learn the rhythm of her heart as she runs through the mountains. These wonders are different, though, because you find your stomach full with the most unexpected things - butterflies, honey winged butterflies that shine in the light just like her eyes. You want to know what song it is that she's always whistling to the birds, you want to know why she always holds her bow like it is a child, you want to know what her favorite color is, so you could find the flower that matched it. 

(You find yourself asking the diplomat this last question before you can clamp your mouth closed, and she laughs and tells you the Inquisitor loves blue, but her favorite flower is a dandelion, of all the choices. The diplomat seems confused at this; a dandelion is not a flower, but a weed. You find yourself remotely unsurprised. You think the Inquisitor could see the good in even the most wretched of worms, and that terrifies you more than you like.)

You think about asking her. You consider asking her something, anything, anything to let you put a person to this face that you hate that you find beautiful. Then you remember you don't deserve the truth. You are a liar and a fraud and you don't deserve to hear one word from her, feel one smile directed towards you like the ray of the damn summer sun, get one painfully friendly kiss on your scarred, lying cheek. 

You don't deserve her. You don't deserve her and everyone knows it, you most of all.

You don't ask.

You let it lie. You let it lie just like the world let you lie.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see anything specific, drop me a prompt at sillylittlesurana.tumblr.com! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
